


dance

by bringyouhometoo



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringyouhometoo/pseuds/bringyouhometoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor, Amy, and Rory take a trip to 19th Century Bath, and run in to Jane Austen at a ball. None of them are prepared for having an annoyingly observant outisde eye cast over the strange mess of tensions, though. (Set post-Wedding, so somewhere between A Christmas Carol and The Impossible Astronaut, I suppose -- 11/Amy except not quite, Amy/Rory except not really).</p>
            </blockquote>





	dance

“And…We’ve…landed?” Amy couldn’t disguise the doubtful inflection to her voice.

“Let’s see…” The Doctor unfolded himself from the chair and joined her at the console. “Yep! Landed!” He exclaimed finally, pulling Amy into a happy hug. “Nice one, Pond!”

“Thanks,” Amy laughed. “Right place and time too, yeah?”

“Um… I’ll have to check that.”  
Amy watched as the Doctor ran to the door, opened it and breathed in deeply.  
“Well, it’s Earth, England, and it’s the early 19th Century…”

“But…?”

“Um…nothing, I think. Pretty much spot on.” The Doctor’s tone was grudging, almost belligerent. Amy smirked.

“So, I basically nailed it, yeah? That was good, right? Come on, I think I pretty much did a good job of that…”

“All right, all right, you were magnificent,” allowed the Doctor, laughing despite himself. “Ready to look around, then?”

“Yeah… Oi! Rory!” added, calling up into the further reaches of the TARDIS. It was a short wait until Rory appeared, his hair still damp from the shower, a worried expression on his face,

“What is it, are you okay? Amy?” He asked worriedly, crossing the console to her.

“I’m fine,” Amy laughed, shrugging his protective hand off. “I just landed the TARDIS in 1804, in Bath.”

“What?”

“Um, 1804. Bath, in England…” But Rory had turned away, angry. Amy bit her lip; she had thought this would happen.

“Rory…” she began, taking his arm. “Come on. The Doctor was right here, nothing could have gone wrong.

“And could you know that, before? That you would be safe?”Amy hesitated. Rory gave a short, humourless laugh and avoided her eyes. Amy cast a desperate look at the Doctor, who had been trying to blend in with the walls, pretending not to even have been listening. Now, though, he wandered over to Rory apprehensively.”Listen, Rory,” he began. “I promise you, Amy was safe.”

“That’s not the point, Doctor,” answered Rory quietly. “You told me you wouldn’t let her. You – lied to get me out of the way! ‘Oh, we’re just hovering around a meteorite shower Amy wanted to see, you can go have a shower if you want Rory, you’re not missing anything!’”

“Rory, I promise you, I was never even in danger-” Amy started to say, but Rory turned his back, furiously. This left him at a dead end: the TARDIS doors. Stepping outside would acknowledge that, actually, Amy hadn’t put anyone in danger. But staying in here seemed, at this moment, unbearable; making his decision, Rory wrenched the doors open and strode out into a swirling snowfall.

_-x-_

The house on the end of Palace Parade shone out into the deserted square. Behind its drawn curtains, hundreds of candles and lanterns blazed. As Amy and the Doctor approached, they began to make out the low rumble of dozens of simultaneous conversations as well as the live music. When they reached the steps, Amy took the Doctor’s arm to stop him.

“What, what’s wrong?” he asked, nonplussed.

“Nothing…it’s just…Rory’s out here somewhere, in this weather, I mean I know he’ll be fine but I just feel mean and-“

“Amy.” The Doctor placed a finger on her lips. “Shh. We were wrong, I know, but Rory over reacted. Let him have a bit of air, we’ll find each other when we need to.”  
Amy nodded, half relieved and half wondering why she should be relieved.

“OK.”

“Good!” The Doctor took her hand and pulled her up the steps, clearly restraining himself from running.

_-x-_

Half an hour later, and Amy still hadn’t been picked up by a dashing Darcy-alike. The Doctor wandered around the peripheries of the room, enjoying just soaking up the atmosphere, but Amy longed to be a part of the dancing. But she knew enough not to simply ask a guy to dance, or even just approach someone – they should come to her… Only none of them were. She was a stranger, with no mutual acquaintances or respectable chaperones; no one here had a way of getting to know her. The Doctor was no help, far too oblivious to come to her rescue – far too oblivious, even, to know that she wanted rescuing. There it was again; half of Amy was aching, the other half wondering why.

And then she saw him. Standing in the doorway, his hair plastered to his head and dotted by snowflakes, his eyes scanning the room, his chiselled features suddenly the most attractive in the room. Amy forgot, in that instance, the strange, half-painful feeling that had been dogging her all night. Here was Rory, here she was – anything else seemed ludicrous. She edged around the dance floor, hoping to surprise him, but she never even got half way before Rory spotted her and nearly tripped in his haste to reach her.

“Amy, I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“Shut up.”

“But, really, I know you were safe really, I just get so worried-“

“No. Still shut up.” Amy pulled him close, their faces barely touching. “Ask me to dance.” Rory grinned at her, relieved, and pulled back slightly.

“Mrs. Williams, will you do this bloody idiot the  _extreme_  honour of the next dance?”

“Oh, Mr. Pond,” she giggled, taking his hand as they took their places. “I thought you’d never ask.”

What followed wasn’t exactly as romantic as they’d hoped, owing to the fact that neither of them knew the steps, or even any steps, or even how to avoid other people’s feet. After a few minutes of excruciating embarrassment and hilarity, Amy and Rory ducked out into a smaller alcove. The respite wasn’t to last long; after what seemed like only a few seconds, the Doctor practically pounced on them.

“Oi!” he spluttered, spotting them sat down. “Why aren’t you having fun?”

“We were, Doctor,” Amy laughed. “But the people dancing next to us weren’t.”

“Ah. Didn’t think of that. Still, we can fix that. Come on, Pond, and Rory, watch carefully.” With that, the Doctor grabbed Amy by the waist and hands, and started manoeuvring her around their little cubbyhole. There wasn’t much room, but Amy didn’t even need that to see that she was dancing with an expert. The Doctor somehow managed to twirl Amy around, push her back, spin around her as she stood stock still and finish by joining his left hand with hers, bringing them up above their heads, and step in almost uncomfortably close. There was a second of stillness, then he let go, relaxing into a grin that replaced the almost serious expression of before.

“Well. Think you got that?” he asked Rory, who had been watching with his mouth slightly ajar. The Doctor seemed to take this as a good sign and pulled both Amy and Rory into the ballroom again. A dance had just finished; there was a round of applause and the musicians struck up a new melody.

“Oh, I like this one,” commented the Doctor, steering them through the crowd. “But we’re one girl short…we need, we need, we need…ah ha!”  
He hurtled across the room, coming to a halt in front of a young girl with brown curls. She had been staring into the middle distance, apparently quite content alone.

“Hello,” started the Doctor confidently, startling the girl out of her reverie. “It is Miss Austen, isn’t it?”

“No, I’m afraid not, sir,” the girl began, and the Doctor’s face fell. “As I am by a few years the younger, that title must go to my sister, Cassandra. I could introduce you after this dance, if you like.”

“So you  _are_ Jane Austen then?” the Doctor asked, beaming again. When Jane nodded, he laughed. “Excellent! Well then, Miss Jane, may I have this dance?”  
Without waiting for an answer, he took her by the hand and pulled her back to where Amy and Rory had paused.

“Here we go. Jane Austen, may I introduce Rory Williams and Amelia Pond, Mr and Mrs.”  
Amy and Rory barely had time to do a sort of silent combustion before the dance began in earnest.

It seemed a long time later that Amy had a brief respite as the girls formed an alley down which all their partners had to sort of artistically skip. She found herself next to Jane, and had to keep biting her tongue from blurting out everything she loved about her books – for all she knew, and her precise history was never really precise, they hadn’t even been dreamt of.

“So…you and Mr. Williams are engaged to be married?” asked Jane out of the blue.

“No,” answered Amy, perplexed. “Already married.”

“Oh! But I thought, with the different names -“

“Oh, I get it. No, no, that was just our choice.”

“Are you an actress, perhaps, Mrs. Pond? An artist’s model? A published writer? There must be some reason for you to keep your own name.”

“Not really,” said Amy uncomfortably. “We just… Thought it best.” At that moment, she was saved from any more questions by Rory and the Doctor taking their places opposite them again. The four of them moved in a circle, then divided into pairs again. Amy grasped Rory’s shoulder tightly, afraid to trip or step on someone again. It was apparently the “done” thing to talk while dancing, because Rory soon brought up the one thing she had been hoping he wouldn’t.

“Um, why did the Doctor say you were still called Pond?”

“I don’t know,” Amy muttered, avoiding his eyes. “I think he’s just used to it. You know, ‘come along, Pond,’ and everything.”

“Don’t you think you could ask him not to?”

“Why, though, really? Rory?”

“Maybe because you took my name? You married me, and we decided that you would be Williams, ages ago we decided, but apparently you forgot to tell anyone.”

“Rory…”

But before Amy could begin to make amends, the dance pushed them away from each other again. When Rory next found her, he took Amy’s right hand in his and they walked in a slow line along the dance floor.

“And,” he continued, as if nothing had interrupted their flow of conversation, “You’re not wearing your ring again.”

“Oh, stop fussing. It’s only in my pocket.”

“Only-!”

“Yes, only! We’re at an actual  _Jane Austen ball_! How many dances do you think a married girl gets?”

“I asked you!”

“Well,” snapped Amy, glad that this part of the dance was ending, “You weren’t here!”  
And she switched hands with Jane, taking the Doctor’s arm again.

“Hello, you,” he smiled, pulling her around in a slow circle.

“Hey,” she muttered.

“Now, come on, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just, nothing, really.”

“Amy…”

“Look,” Amy managed. “Let’s not ruin our dance.”

The Doctor seemed perfectly happy with this proposition, so they continued to slowly revolve around each other in silence.

“Mr. Williams, I do hope you don’t find me incredibly bold in asking, but is anything the matter?”  
Rory didn’t quite know what to say. On the one hand, it was none of Jane’s business. On the other, it was  _Jane Austen_. He settled for a compromise.

“Yes, I suppose there is, but if it’s all the same to you I’d rather not discuss it.”

“Of course,” answered Jane smoothly as they turned another corner. “And if it’s all the same to you | I think I’ll simply discuss it with myself. I can’t help myself, I see the story in everything.”

Rory grinned.  
“How do you mean?”

“I’ll just… Ponder on what I see. It’s up to you how much you’ll indulge my little game.”

“Sounds all right to me. What  _do_  you think then?”

“I think…” mused Jane, “I think you have been desperately in love for a very, very long time, Mr. Williams. Longer, perhaps, than your charming wife has.”

“Hey, now-“

“Ah,” she warned. “I’m not done yet. Let’s see, you’re wearing a ring but she isn’t; neither has she got a wedding ring mark. You’re recently married, and happily so, I should say – although maybe not as happily as you’d like. Not settled enough, your Amelia? Not quite used to being a Mrs?”  
Rory was stumped. How did she know that?

“How did-“

“How did I know? Oh, I didn’t. I guessed; in my mind you simply became two figures, to do as I bid them.”

“Oh, really. And how would the story carry on?”

“If it was totally, incontrovertibly my decision, and wouldn’t affect any real people at all?”

“Um, yes,” Rory answered, flummoxed.

“Then…  _Lizzie_ , as we’ll call her, will never even marry the man from the village at all. I think he’ll propose, with the best of intentions; Lizzie meanwhile will fall under the spell of a handsome but, how shall I put it, socially inept stranger. At first, it is Hate at first sight, at least on her part – later, as in so many of these cases , it becomes Love, and we get two very satisfying star-crossed lovers. Of course, Lizzie’s village suitor must have a rich ally, who will offer Lizzie a chance of a rich and settled, but ultimately loveless, life – she’ll force Lizzie to decide between love and money, or no! Better, much better! The rich aunt of our hero deems Lizzie unsuitable and will do anything in her power to keep them apart. Lizzie will choose her stranger, and love, eventually, but, ohh! The things they’ll go through!”

Rory could only gape. Of course, he knew that plot, but -

“I’m so sorry!” gasped Jane suddenly. “I didn’t mean to offend – I never really think those fancies through – of course, if it really were you and Amelia we were talking about, she would settle soon enough, and the whole story would be that of a happy life-“

“Yeah,” retorted Rory bitterly. “If it was only a story, it would be a pretty dull one.”

Jane started to speak some words of reassurance, or comfort, or pity, but the music segued into another new movement, and Rory found himself dancing with his wife again.

Amy’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright; she looked, Rory realised, happy.

“What?” she asked, flushing under his eyes.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly. “Look, let’s not fight, okay? I don’t care about the name really, or about the ring – so long as it’s you and me.”

“OK,” said Amy happily. “You and me. Me and you. Yeah,”

The dance finished with a flourish; the musicians got a round of applause. Amy could hardly wait to drag Rory off into their alcove.

As soon as they were out of sight, Amy brought her lips to Rory’s, grabbing the back of his head. Rory, while slightly bemused, was by now used to such outbursts and went with it enthusiastically as always. When she released him, he smiled down at her.

“OK. What was that for?”

“Just…” Maybe Rory was being paranoid; maybe Amy really did answer without meeting his eyes. “Like you said, let’s not fight.”

The Doctor and Jane had found a quiet table in a corner of the ballroom; they had seen Amy and Rory at the end of the dance, but not since then,

“You’d have a chance there, you know,” said Jane eventually, breaking the companionable silence.

“Sorry, what?”

Jane simply gestured towards the doorway through which they assumed Amy and Rory had escaped. The Doctor felt, for one moment, hideously trapped; next he felt completely indignant.

“What! No! No, don’t be stupid” Sorry,” he added quickly, remembering who he was talking to, “But me and- No! Really, just – no! It’s Rory, it’s always been Rory. And,” he added hastily, “It’s never been Amy to me, or me to Amy. OK?”  
Jane nodded, smiling slightly condescendingly.

“If you say so, Doctor. I’m only saying – if you wanted to take it, I think the chance would be there.

“Really? I mean, of course there wouldn’t, Amy’s got her Boy Who Waited, why would she even…” The Doctor tailed off, realising belatedly that he had done absolutely nothing to change Jane’s mind., and they resumed a now rather prickly silence.

_-x-_

Amy, Rory and the Doctor returned to the TARDIS much later that night. The Doctor had found Jane Austen, once they had exchanged some meaningless banter to smooth out the disagreement, extraordinary to talk to, and Amy and Rory had been happy to spend all night alternating between dancing and their alcove.

“And,” enthused the Doctor as he unlocked the TARDIS and ushered them all inside. “Jane’s going to write a story about us!”

“Sorry, what?” giggled Amy, sinking into the chair.

“Yeah, yeah, she said I was the most interesting person she’d met in a long, long time. So she asked me for my first name, I said Fitzwilliam – yeah, I know, I know, but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight,” he hurried on, “And she said, and I quote, ‘Well, you can’t be Fitzwilliam Doctor, no one would believe that was a real name. I might keep the initial though. You and your friends are going to make a very good story, I should think. I’ll send it to my sister, she loves hearing about the balls.’ Isn’t that just the funniest thing EVER! I am Fitzwilliam D to Jane Austen! HA!”  
The Doctor, who had been careering around the console wildly, was brought up short, suddenly remembering who Fitzwilliam Darcy actually was. Ah.

“But…” he hastened to add. “Jane did tell me it was probably all going to veer off into high fiction, so don’t go hunting through your books for a clue… Um… I think I’ll just go to bed actually, um, good night.” He ran off, barely making it to his room before collapsing, He was such a tactless git.

Rory and Amy went to bed early too, but none of the TARDIS’ three occupants that night slept particularly well; each of them had enough of their mind to be getting on with. And in roughly two thirds of cases, dreaming turned out to be rather less helpful, and a lot more guilt-inducing.


End file.
